Behind Darkened Eyes: The Forgotten Year
by Sleuth Girl
Summary: When Joe's family is in danger because of him and the only way to save them is to go against everything he believes in, he can only come up with one rational conclusion: Run, hide, and never come back... [BDE: Book 1] (Rewrite/Repost for those that requested)
1. It's Too Late To Make Me Stay

**A/N:** This is a rewrite of the original story posted here back in 2008. I've gotten quite a few requests over the years to read the original story or what there is of this rewrite, so I'm choosing to upload it now. It's by no means in perfect condition, but I've since moved on from this story and this fandom, so it is what it is. But at least it's here now for those that would like to read! (Something important to note: in this rewrite the character of Hope is replaced with Anna Hardy.) Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

 _"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." -Anatole France_

* * *

Over the next year, his life will change completely. A black hole absorbing his loves, fears, friendships, and life itself. He will never be able to look back at this year with the same eyes ever again. In his mind it will forever become know as...The Forgotten Year.

* * *

A domino effect, he was pretty sure that's what it was called. One small event leading to the fall of similar events until nothing at all was left standing.

Twenty-two year old Joe Hardy glanced out to his peers, eyes shining from underneath their satin blue graduation caps. He stepped onto the stage set in the middle of the Bayport University football stadium, a field he had considered his second home for the past four years. He'd been lucky to have had a full ride football scholarship, so that his brother could use the family savings to his benefit instead of being stunted at the hometown college with his younger brother.

Though Joe's grades had always been adequate in high school, everyone knew Frank's SAT's allowed him the pick of any school in the country. The older Hardy had graduated a semester early, magna cum laude, from Northeastern University in Boston with a degree in criminal justice. Joe's degree would match his brother's, no matter what college he was graduating from, but he still didn't mind standing in his big brother's shadow, he was used to it and he truly believed Frank deserved the spotlight, even if his outward pride didn't let it show through.

His mind in a fog, Joe went through the motions, smiling, shaking hands, graduating- finally. Though he'd had his closest friends Biff Hooper and Chet Morton through his senior year of high school and his years at Bayport U, he had struggled at first with the absence of his older brother, his best friend, his confident. But now he was done with school, moving on with his adult life, he had a wonderful girlfriend, supportive family, great friends, and a new sister-in-law. Life seemed so effortlessly perfect.

It would only take one glance into the crowd of spectators to rupture his quintessential thoughts. He saw Frank first, his dark eyes shining with pride, Callie grasping his hand sweetly, their skin bronzed from their recent beach honeymoon. Vanessa sat next to her recently wedded friend, a bright smile shining from within glistening pink lips that Joe found himself unconsciously craving. His cousin, Anna Hardy, and friends Phil Cohen and Tony Prito were there as well, cheering with all their might for him. Biff and Chet not too far behind him in line to graduate.

Joe's heart swelled with joy as his eyes flicked to Frank again and then to his mother, her eyes matching his own in color and brightness. She beamed up at him, but there was a noticeable glint of apprehension in her expression. It didn't take long for Joe to understand why.

A spidering crack split its way into Joe's perfect world. The seat next to Laura was empty, creating a pit in the younger Hardy's stomach. Pain and dejection splintered Joe's heart in half, but for some strange reason this didn't shock him. Fenton Hardy's work came first. He was on an important case, more important than his youngest's college graduation. He'd forewarned Joe about his busy and unpredictable schedule, but always made sure to emphasize how proud he was of his son's achievement.

Joe stared at the empty seat for a split second longer before reality took a hold of him and he finished his walk across the stage and back to his seat. He took in a deep breath, holding back hot tears he knew he wouldn't shed. He vaguely remembered cheering for Biff, the broad shouldered blond having walked mere moments after he had, but the rest of the ceremony was a haze in his memory. It was not until he was being greeted and congratulated by his friends and family that he was able to bring his mind into focus again. Vanessa was the first to reach him through the crowd of happy parents and peers, her arms wrapping around him in a flurry, a passionate kiss bringing him fully back to reality.

"Congratulations babe!" the tall blond grinned. Joe smiled back at her, a loving sparkle in his blue eyes.

"Thanks," he replied, leaning in to kiss her again, but their moment was cut short by the arrival of Frank, their mother, and the rest of their friends. A slew of hugs, congrats, and camera flashes followed, causing Joe to nearly forget the absence of his father altogether.

Finally managing to pull his brother aside, Frank Hardy gazed at the young man before him, a delighted smile plastered on his face. Even though he and Joe had drifted in their college years they still held a bond that no one could ever fabricate or break. "I'm so proud of you, Joe."

The younger Hardy smirked, giving his brother a powerful hug and laughing cheerfully in his ear. "Me too, bro, me too."

But after stepping back, Joe's smile had dissipated. "I thought he would be here, Frank. I really did."

A sadness passed over Frank's features. "I'm sorry, Joe."

"It's not your fault," Joe snapped, his fiery eyes staring past Frank in sudden, instant annoyance. Frank opened his mouth to chastise Joe's attitude, but stopped himself, knowing that an argument wasn't going to help. It never did. Besides this was Joe's day, all he could do was ignore the outburst and hope his younger brother would be able to cool down before they had to face their father.

But Frank felt his insides twist uncomfortably at the thought, realizing that even if he managed to avoid the lightning now, there was always thunder just around the corner. What he didn't realize was that Joe's notorious temper would cause much more than a thunderstorm that would soon change their lives forever.

* * *

 _Six Months Later:_

Two sets of dark eyes watched through matching binoculars as a young, blond man walked into the Bayhouse, a small, local restaurant down the street from the townhouse he resided in. He picked up a New York Times and sat in his usual booth next to the open window that looked out onto the harbor and Rockaway Bay. The window's view was breathtaking as always. The restaurant jutted out over the sparkling blue water and just across the bay the Manhattan Sky Line and bits and pieces of Coney Island could be made out in the distance. The man visited this same spot every morning, but not once had he taken a sideways glance at the boat floating in the harbor, the car idling up the street, or the pier shadowed beach where the two men, dressed inconspicuously, kept their eyes on him, as they always did.

The water was calm that day, small waves hitting the creamy white beach just steps away from the small eatery. Seagulls scattered themselves upon the sand hunting for their breakfast as warm sunlight shined down through the few, small clouds in the sky. Never the less it was a chilly day, but the cold seemed to help clear the young man's head. Breezy Point, New York had been his home for almost a year now, but nightmares about his previous life usually prevented any decent sleep he might encounter. Something he'd been working on, unsuccessfully of course.

The two men- on the boat this particular morning- studied the young blond carefully. He appeared tired and restless, but that had been his usual state ever since they had known him. The dark bags under his eyes never seemed to dissipate, his attitude always stoic, his words short and often contrite. But his lean, muscular frame was always in top form, and though it didn't always appear so, the man was always at the peak of health.

The mysterious duo watched as he slowly reached into his pocket and sat a small, black box onto the freshly cleaned laminate table top in front of him. Opening it, the blond gazed upon the diamond ring that rested softly atop purple velvet. The diamond was centered between two small amethysts, her birthstone, set in a smooth, silver band. After another short moment he sighed, as usual, and placed the small box back into his pocket where it would stay until he mustered up another bout of confidence to look at it again. It was a ritual the men had watched him perform countless times.

Fixing her apron and black polo shirt, a friendly waitress, walked towards the booth. A young woman, not more than a year or two older than the blond, lingering behind her. The waitress, who was more than an acquaintance but less than a friend, knew exactly what he ate every morning and just how he liked his eggs: sunny side up.

"Saw you come in, already got your order in. The usual right?" she said in a honeyed, somewhat comforting voice.

The young man was always impressed with her unusual perception of himself and his eating habits. "Right," he replied with a nearly unnoticeable smile. But, as the waitress walked away, his gaze slowly drifted to the young lady that had been standing behind her, a small spark of curiosity running through his usually dispassionate thoughts.

On the boat the two men turned to each other and grinned. Their plan was falling into place. If they couldn't find out more about the evasive young man that worked for them, then someone else would have to do it.

Inside the waterfront restaurant the enigmatic woman walked towards the quiet man, putting on a soft smile and demeanor. She was petite and pixie faced, her dark chin length hair a stark contrast to her bright, golden eyes. "Hello," she greeted, her voice smooth and velvety. She extended a thin, manicured hand. "My name is Acacia Heart."

The man eyed her for a moment before shaking her hand. Pursing his lips as he studied her with furrowed brows before finally speaking. "Can I help you?" The words sounded more bitter than he'd meant them to.

She gave an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so forward, but I believe we are neighbors. I moved into the place next to yours several days ago."

The man nodded. "Yes, I do remember seeing a moving van." He cleared his throat, the situation becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He had almost forgotten how to deal with any remotely social situation; he didn't get out much these days. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm-"

"I know who you are," she interrupted, staring deep into his dark eyes. "And yes, it is very nice to meet you...Joseph Hale."


	2. When Is Enough Finally Enough?

_"He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal." - Gregg Levoy_

* * *

 _Present Day:_

Callie sat on the couch, wringing her hands nervously. Having Joe rent out their basement apartment had been a perfect opportunity to save on money as well as bringing the brothers closer together once again. But as of late, the decision to live with her hotheaded new brother-in-law was becoming a stressful one at best.

Joe was usually pleasant and easy to live with, his carefree demeanor and joking manner considerably balancing Callie and Frank's more conservative attitudes. At the beginning of the summer he seemed fine, but slowly both Frank and Callie had realized that it had all been a front. The ongoing tension between he and his father affected Joe in such a negative way that he had become irritable and reclusive.

"Joe, drinking won't solve anything!" Callie heard Frank yelling, his voice echoing from the basement stairwell. She cringed and just kept silent, knowing it would be over soon, like always. Frank could handle his brother.

However, in the basement Frank was thinking the exact opposite. His brother was becoming harder and harder to control and placate. "You're better than this and you know it," he said in a calmer voice. Quickly he snatched the motorcycle keys from Joe's trembling hands.

"Why do you care Frank," his younger brother hissed back. Bloodshot eyes glared in Frank's direction, an intoxicated glaze already seeping across them. He'd only had a of couple beers, but that had been enough to heat his erratic temper and blur his judgement.

Joe had never been one to drink, socially at most, but never to drown out memories or force himself to forget. His behavior had grown reckless, beyond that even. He knew it too, but what he hated most was how Frank had to continuously remind him of it. Knowing that if he stooped to Joe's unpleasant level nothing good would come of it, Frank tried to keep a level head.

"I care because I'm your brother," he said impatiently, his face grim, but determined. "I can't stand here and watch you get drunk and kill yourself, or someone else, with your bike just so you can get even with Dad's ignorance!"

Joe's eyes widened for a fraction of a second at Frank's words. "I'm not trying to get even," he growled. Embarrassment flooded his face in a warm flush. His brother was right, but he couldn't let Frank win, if for no other reason than his own stubborn pride.

Frank's eyes blazed, finding it hard to keep cool when fighting against his brother's irrational ferocity. "Then what, Joe? Just getting drunk to get drunk? That's not like you. I know you're hurting, but this won't reverse time or circumstances. When is enough finally enough with you?" He paused for a second, and then with a solemn glare he added, "Grow up, Joe."

The statement was simple, but harsh, especially when directed at Joe. He'd always been the baby, the younger brother, the immature trouble maker. After completing college he'd hoped to wipe his slate clean, be an adult like everybody else, but still he was being told to 'grow up.'

Joe took a step towards Frank, a pained yet indignant fire in those sapphire eyes. "Don't you dare tell me to 'grow up.'" He grit his teeth, trying to reign in his emotions with little success. "If anyone needs to grow up it's Dad! Grow up and realize he has a family, and not one, but two sons. Grow up and realize that work should never be a priority when it comes to family."

Frank knew most of Joe's anger and words were fueled by the buzz of alcohol in his system, but there was a bit of what he was saying that did make sense. Their father had made a huge mistake, but no one could do anything about that now.

Neither brother spoke for a long, uncomfortable moment. A film of mist covered Joe's vision and a shake attacked his throat, but taking a deep breath, he pushed onward, not allowing himself to back down now. "Just leave me the hell alone, Frank."

Joe's pronouncement cut like a glass splinter in Frank's heart. He reminded himself again about his brother's intoxicated state, but he was starting to think that Joe sounded scarily sober. "Joe- please."

The younger Hardy cleared his throat, barely able to make eye contact now, regret already welling inside of him. "What?" he snapped, his tone icy.  
Frank let go of a sigh. "Please don't take this out on me. We can work through this. Dad-"

"I don't want to talk about Dad anymore." Joe's voice was still cold, but he was beginning to calm, the argument becoming a worthless fight now. He didn't want to take it out on Frank, but he didn't want to let his wracked emotions take their toll on anyone else either. He knew at least his brother could take it. Probably.

"What should we talk about then?" Frank's voice had simmered to a neutral tone. He just wanted Joe to open up to him, but found it nearly impossible to persuade him to do so. Shaking his head he knew that this behavior shouldn't be surprising to him. Joe had always been the hotheaded brother.

Joe pushed past Frank towards the basement entrance. Though he had been spending a majority of his time at Vanessa's, he still paid rent and kept most of his belongings with his brother and sister-in-law. Most of the time he enjoyed living with them, but sometimes, like this particular moment, he hated it.

He may have been an adult in every legal sense, but as long as he lived under Frank's roof he was compelled to follow his brother's rules. Joe touched the door's handle, but feeling Frank's eyes burning into the back of his skill he turned abruptly to face him again. "Please, Frank, let me go."

"I can't. You know that." Frank's voice was sad but firm.

Joe knew his brother couldn't physically prevent him from leaving, but he also knew Frank wouldn't forget the events taking place and one way or another the guilt would weigh on Joe's mind forever if he disobeyed his brother's common sense orders.

Joe's tough facade faded a fraction, ready to end the fight. "Frank..."

But Frank interrupted him, his stern words like a bucket of ice water being dumped over Joe's head. "You're not seventeen anymore, Joe. You can't just run away from your troubles. Five years should have been enough time to grow up- without me babysitting you the whole way."

Frank immediately regretted his unusually impulsive words, their harshness uncalled for just as Joe had been simmering down. Now he realized his mistake as he watched Joe's blood begin to boil beneath his skin.

" _Babysitting_ me?" Joe spit the words out as if they were a bitter substance in his mouth. "Is that what you think your job in life is Frank? To babysit me? Because I still need to 'grow up,' right?" Surprisingly, though his words were full of venom, Joe kept his voice extremely even. "I'm out of here and you're not going to stop me this time."

Frank knew that he had dug himself into a hole now. Trying to backpedal, he reverted back to his normal, cool headed demeanor. "Joe just stay home. Please. Get some sleep, rest will do you good."

"Stay home? So you can just babysit me some more? Lock me in my room while I throw my tempter tantrum until I tire myself out?" Joe clenched his teeth and still managed to keep his voice relatively even, though he knew his words were hurtful enough.

Frank furrowed his brows, as if mentally yelling at himself for saying such an idiotic thing to his already fired up brother. "I'm sorry, truly Joe. I shouldn't have said that-"

"Well you did, didn't you?" Joe snarled. "You can take it back all you want Frank, but I will always know how you feel."

Joe felt a poignant throbbing at the base of his skull, another strong headache coming over him. He hadn't told Frank, or anyone else, about the nauseating migraines and certainly wasn't planning to now. It would just give his brother another reason to 'babysit' him.

He averted his eyes finding it hard to fight with Frank when looking directly at all of his brother's reactions, even if he was angry with him. "Just leave me alone. You have no idea what I'm going through right now," he muttered under incensed breath. He put his hand on the doorknob again, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could open it.

"Look Joe, I'm done reasoning with you. If you won't listen to me I'm going to have to call Vanessa," Frank threatened. "Lately she seems to be the only one who can talk sense into you." He gave his brother a menacing stare, his lips forming a firm line, though he felt slightly guilty for bringing Vanessa into the argument.

"That's not fair, Frank," Joe groaned, now more annoyed than angry. He pinched the bridge of his nose momentarily, the vision of Vanessa's crystalline blue-grey eyes marred with tears made his heart sink. She hated to see him like this.

Frank held his ground. "It's my last resort."

Joe's fists curled uncomfortably, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. "'Ness doesn't have anything to do with this. She doesn't need this." Shame and sadness covered Joe's face as he weighed his options. He knew that he'd done too much to her lately, she didn't need anymore stress on their relationship. "Please."

"Then don't make me call her." Frank kept up his rough attitude, though looking at Joe's face ripped him apart inside.

Joe, who had been leaning against the door, pushed away from it and away from Frank towards the opposite side of the basement apartment. "I just need some air." He opened the patio's sliding glass door and stepped out onto the bland cement without another word, closing the door heavily behind him.

For a moment Frank considered following him and trying to talk things out some more, but then his reasoning got the better of him. He didn't need to irritate the situation anymore than he already had.

Stillness and silence surrounded him as he watched Joe sitting on the bottom stairs to the house's upper deck, breathing in the cool night air greedily. Frank wasn't sure, and never would be, but he thought that his brother may have been crying.

An intense feeling of self loathing and sadness fell over Frank. He and Joe rarely fought, at least not anymore than brothers normally do. He hated that this situation had escalated to the point that it was influencing their relationship so negatively.

Frank knew that his father didn't miss Joe's graduation on purpose. Everyone knew that, even Joe himself. But Fenton Hardy was a man set in his ways and when he was making a breakthrough on an important case nothing could divert him. However, unfortunately for their father, his determined personality was a blessing and a curse. On one hand it made him a great detective, but also handicapped him in some areas of being a parent. Both Joe and Frank knew that their father loved them, but occasionally it wasn't always shown directly on the surface.

Frank could understand why Joe was so disappointed by his father's actions, but he knew that drinking wasn't going to help. Especially if he were to get slapped with a DUI. Of course, perhaps that was what Joe wanted- something to pull their father's attention, good or bad. With a sigh he looked out to the dark silhouette of his brother once more. He couldn't see him very well as the moon was but a small sliver in the sky above, but he was sure that he had calmed down, at least some. Frank ran a hand over his tired face and smiled grimly.

He knew his father was going to get a taste of this bitterness soon- it had been nearly a month now that Joe had been fighting off the conversation, stewing in his anger- and he hoped all would turn out okay. But knowing his brother, there would be difficulties, no matter what happened.


	3. Highly Suspicious

" _The suspicious mind believes more than it doubts. It believes in a formidable and ineradicable evil lurking in every person." -Eric Hoffer_

* * *

"I don't know what you want from me, son. How many times can I apologize?" Fenton Hardy's voice was full of genuine regret towards his youngest. If it hadn't been for an urgent questioning and poor time management this whole argument wouldn't even exist.

Joe's eyes were full of sadness, but his voice full of scorn. "You have no idea how little that means to me right now," he muttered, still tired from his intoxicated fight with Frank the night before.

Fenton's face appeared more haggard than usual, the stress getting to him lately. "I'm sorry Joe, what more can I say?" he pleaded. This had been weeks in the making, he supposed he was just lucky that his eldest son had finally convinced Joe to speak with him. But things were not exactly going the way he'd expected them to.

His eyes drifted to Frank, who was standing at the top of the stairs that led to Joe's basement apartment. But the older son didn't say a word, his lips forming a grim line. He had previously informed his father that he would be present during Fenton and Joe's conversation, but only as a supportive, silent, and neutral party.

Joe shook his head bitterly, all impulses overriding any conscientious sense he may have had in his mind. "Well there's a lot more that you _could_ say but that will never happen, so I guess I forgive you for missing my graduation Dad, I'm sure your case was a lot more important." There was a pause before Joe added harshly, "It's funny how nothing important ever lands on Frank's achievements." He immediately bit his tongue, regretting the words heavily, but unable to give in and apologize.

Joe's eyes burned and he stormed out of the living room, brushing past his brother down the stairs and into his bedroom before he could say any more hurtful things.

"Joseph Hardy! Don't you run away from me!" Fenton yelled after him, but he didn't move from his spot. No, that would probably not be a wise decision at this point.

After a moment Frank made his way towards his father, watching as the older man massaged his temples roughly. "Don't worry, Joe'll come around, he always does," he said, trying to reassure his father, though he himself didn't sound entirely convinced.

Fenton heaved a sigh of exasperation. "I know, but this time I really messed up, Frank. I don't blame him for being angry with me," he uttered in sad reply. He knew his eldest son was just trying to help, but Frank's concern could only help so much in this situation. He'd dug his own grave.

They exchanged a few more words, both unsure of how to deal with Joe's attitude besides letting him work out his rage in isolation, before Fenton left the house. He hadn't made much progress with his disgruntled son, but he still tried to stay positive. Frank's advice, not his own.

The moment Fenton had left, Callie was tip toeing down the stairs to meet her husband at the bottom landing. She'd been listening the whole time. Placing a finger over his lips, Frank waved for her to follow him into the kitchen before they could talk openly.

Once seated at their small dining table Frank ran a hand over his mouth in frustration, feeling the bit of stubble there that he'd not been paying attention to lately. The entire fight was putting stress on the whole family, though Frank still found it hard to blame his brother for being so disappointed in their father, but it was true that he was trying to solve it in a poorest of manners.

"It could have been worse," Callie whispered, interrupting his brooding thoughts. He gave her a weak smile; she was right, in actuality Joe and Fenton's quarrel had probably gone pretty well.

Frank furrowed his brows. "I'm just worried that Joe is going to do something stupid one of these days. I mean, last night he could have gotten himself killed."

Callie placed a soothing hand on her husband's forearm. "At least he lives with us. It's easier to keep an eye on him that way."

Grimacing, Frank shook his head. He knew Callie was right, but after their fight last night and Frank's comment about 'babysitting,' the thought of keeping an eye on Joe just made knots in his stomach.

However, instead of delving into that conversation, Frank turned to his wife with a soft smile. "Thanks for putting up with all of this, Cal. I'm sure you never imagined our first months as a married couple to be like this."

Callie gave a soft laugh, but her green eyes held a serious glow. "He's your brother, Frank," she said. "And he's my brother now too. We can't just abandon family."

Frank's lips stretched into a warm grin and he leaned in to give Callie a passionate kiss. Amidst all the craziness of their new life, she always knew the perfect thing to say.

* * *

A week following Joe and Fenton's last dispute, Frank had managed to placate both parties enough to get them into the same room. However, that was about as far as the pacifying went. Recently Joe had decided to ignore the situation entirely, which subsequently meant ignoring their father as well.

A pair of formidable looking men sat across from Fenton and Frank, while Joe leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest. The tension between he and his father had caused him to become extremely uncomfortable anytime he entered his childhood home. And even then it wasn't a very common occurrence, he only went to either appease Frank, Vanessa, and Callie, or to visit his mother who had become increasingly worried about her youngest son.

The two men were fairly ordinary looking; both brunette, one a much darker shade than the other. Joe eyed them suspiciously, but then again he eyed everyone suspiciously nowadays. Matthew Stevenson, the darker haired of the two, glanced in Joe's direction almost nervously, which caused the younger Hardy's face to soften in curiosity.

Fenton had introduced his sons to the strange men before them as his 'old college buddies.' Joe found it nearly impossible to imagine his father ever having 'college buddies,' especially not guys like Roger and Matthew. They were big, hulking men, probably former football players or rowers, while their father was shorter and his muscles significantly leaner and less noticeable.

Frank had immediately warmed up to the men, greeting them with politeness and a charming smile. Unlike Joe, who was currently still 'figuring his life out' and waiting tables part time at _Prito's_ , Tony's father's restaurant, the older Hardy had begun helping with Fenton's many private investigations. Ever since, he'd become the epitome of professionalism around their father, annoying and put-on as it sometimes was.

In response to Frank's greeting, Roger Bernheart said pleasantly, a hint of a New Jersey accent in his voice, "It's a pleasure, boys. And please, just Roger and Matt s'fine."

Joe took a deep breath, trying not to roll his eyes, and plastered a tight smile on his face. His perceptive mind was already picking up an untrustworthy air about the men. They were just too _perfect_. But he didn't need anymore animosity between himself and his father, so he tried his best to hide his suspicion behind fabricated words. "We've heard about you. Dad says you guys were quite good friends in college."

Less obvious now, but still skittish looking, Matt shared a glance with Roger before turning towards the young men with a stiff smile. "Oh, yeah. We go way back, huh, Fenton?" The brothers' father grinned widely in response, as if any recognition of their friendship gave him a boost in self-esteem. Joe gave his dad a strange look, brows furrowing. Fenton was usually a confident man, but around these 'college buddies' he seemed to require their friendship and approval to feel assured.

"Fenton was always top of the class," Roger added, a slick smirk wrapping his lips, causing Joe's brows to dip even deeper over narrowed eyes.

"Well," Fenton said, turning to his sons in an attempt to hide the blush running across his features at the man's statement, "I bet you're wondering why these guys are here."

Frank nodded while Joe looked just past his father's face neutrally, wanting to shake his head the opposite, feeling sardonic and wary about the whole situation. Fenton, not noticing Joe's blank stare, went on. "Currently Roger and Matt work with the NJSP. They'll be assisting me on a few cases while they're in town on a lead of their own, just for old times sake."

Joe held back a grimace while his brother responded, as if for both of them. "Well it will be nice to get to know you. Any friends of Dad's are friends of ours."

Both men nodded in agreement, but Roger spoke first, his words almost condescending. "From the looks of it so far Fenton, you have a couple of intelligent and budding detectives here." He glanced at them as if they were still in elementary school.

Joe scoffed under his breath and Roger locked eyes with him, steely gray eyes burrowing into Joe's blue ones, causing his stomach to sink. Swallowing, Joe tried to hide his sudden nausea and fear, but by the small smirk on Roger's lips he knew it was still obvious.

There was something about these men that still didn't quite settle right with Joe. But considering his past actions he refrained from speaking with his father or Frank about his gut feelings. He was probably just over thinking things anyways. That did tend to happen a lot to him. He found himself swallowing again, pushing off the counter and leaving the room with a muttered 'excuse me' just before the pounding in his head assaulted him once more.

* * *

Days later the tension revolving around the Hardys and their new associates had not dissipated. Joe still secluded himself from his father's gaze while Frank still carried a slightly guilty glint in his dark eyes.

"So what exactly are you working on?" Frank asked Fenton, as the boys sat down at a table in Prito's where they were having lunch with their father and his associates. Joe had begrudgingly joined, mainly because it gave him an opportunity to say hello to Tony Prito who was working the lunch shift that day.

Fenton seemed distracted by some papers and a cooling cup of coffee in front of him. He hadn't even looked up when Frank and Joe had joined them. "Drug ring, probably amateur," he replied shortly. Their father, though a renowned private detective, still liked to aide the local police force when he could. He had many acquaintances in Bayport, especially in the precinct, and the more good acquaintances he had in town, the easier his local cases became. However, this case in particular seemed to be giving him some unusual trouble.

"Amateur, huh?" The soft, scoffing voice of Roger caught Joe's ear causing him to stop daydreaming and glance across the table. There was an annoying little smirk flittering on the older man's face as his eyes rolled upwards toward the ceiling. Joe's brows furrowed harshly and he opened his mouth to comment on the obvious scoff, but was cut off.

"Oh?" Matt's more nervous sounding voice distracted Joe's attention this time. "Any leads yet?"

Frank looked at his brother's narrowed eyes and elbowed him roughly in the ribs, causing Joe to stop his glaring and give a soft gripe towards his brother. Joe was about to say something, but Frank hushed him like a five-year old, gave him a scolding look and then focused his attention back on Fenton.

Their father's eyes were momentarily drawn to Matt's. "The tracks are surprisingly well covered. So nothing really strong to go on..." He looked back down at his notes and added, "Maybe it's not so amateur."

Joe couldn't be sure but he thought he saw the two older men sharing a secretive looking grin. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks, his thoughts jumping to conclusions, but their eyes glinted under the restaurants lights and he saw something there, something unreadable, but something nonetheless.

Joe clenched and unclenched his fists as he watched Matt and Roger. Anxiously he ran his middle finger over the knuckle of his thumb and after a moment squeezed tight until the joint between his thumb and hand popped hollowly. It was a nervous habit he had developed as of late.

Fenton had gone back to pouring over a stack of papers along with a few photographs on the table. Frank seemed interested in their father's actions, as did Matt. Joe followed both their gazes, but couldn't seem to be drawn into Fenton's work as his thoughts raced.

His mind was twisting around and around, wondering if he had even had any water that day. After a moment a light-headed haze filtered across his eyes and an ache formed at the base of his skull, something he'd grown unhappily accustomed to. Roger was staring at him now, Joe noticed, but the dizzying effect of the previously mentioned ailments barely allowed him to register the wicked looking grin the man flashed in his direction. Joe blinked slowly, but by the time he could see straight again Roger's gaze had moved elsewhere.

Studying the two men before him again Joe wondered why, all of a sudden, they had decided to visit Bayport. Never once in his life had he seen or heard anything about them, aside from some vague stories their father had spouted off on occasion. But he knew if he voiced these concerns he would be called crazy or told that he was still holding a ruthless grudge against his father. His life was beginning to become a cryptic and unfair circle that was making him quite nauseous.

Joe's thumb and middle finger switched places this time; another hollow pop.

* * *

A/N: Those of you wondering if this fic is complete... in a sense that the original story is "complete," yes. But the rewrite/edit is only about 50% complete. I will try to have a consistent updating schedule regardless. Thank you for your kind reviews thus far, I appreciate them!


	4. I Pretend To Feel No Pain

_"You are the reason why I have sleepless nights. You are the reason why I tend to hold my pillow tight. And you are the reason I can't sleep without saying goodnight." -Anonymous_

* * *

Joe awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding. It took him a moment to realize that he was in Vanessa's bedroom, but then reality came sweeping back to him. Slowly he turned on his side to embraces his girlfriend's sleeping form, but all that lay beside him was an empty pillow and cold sheets. He glanced at his watch sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. It was just around midnight.

Joe groaned silently to himself, clenching his eyes; they had barely been asleep, so why would Vanessa be up? He blinked his eyes open again, allowing them to adjust to the dim light in the dark room. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before thrusting his legs over the bed to get up.

"Vanessa?" Joe whispered roughly, still feeling half asleep. He didn't get much rest as it was so he couldn't help feeling grumpy that he was up in the middle of the night. He tried to focus his vision and glanced around the room. Empty.

Joe breathed out slowly, and entered the hallway to see a lanky shadow creeping from the silhouette of Vanessa seated next to the iridescent panes of a window in a small wicker chair that reminded him of Andrea Bender's old sunroom.

"'Ness, what'er you doing?" He asked, his mouth not fully functioning yet.

Vanessa turned toward him, a surprised glint in her eyes, clearly not having expected Joe to wake up. Her face glowed an unnatural white in the pale light entering through the window. "Just thinking." Her tone was nearly inaudible. Watching Joe's confusion she shook her head and smiled to herself. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep, babe."

He watched her curiously, fully awake now. "What's wrong?" Joe inquired stifling an annoying yawn. He walked slowly towards her perch, giving her a warm grin that was easily turned down by his girlfriend's now averted eyes.

Joe sighed and furrowed his brows anxiously. He glanced outside to see what Vanessa seemed so transfixed on, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see, just the street lamp on the corner and the dark sidewalk below.

His attention was brought back to the thin blonde by her faint voice. "I'm fine, Joe." She sounded tired but determined not to open up to him. "Just thinking about things- and- nothing you need to be concerned about..." she trailed off, still not bothering to look at Joe as he knelt down in front of her. Vanessa drew her legs up, as if pulling away from him, wrapped her arms around her shins and placed her chin in the crook between her knees, her nightgown slipping higher up her thighs.

Joe regarded her sadly, running his eyes over her tense looking body, even under the odd circumstances Vanessa Bender was the loveliest women he had ever seen. He sat up straighter placing a hand on her knee and pushing down gently, bringing the wall she had inadvertently created tumbling down. He reached out his hand and brushed ash blonde bangs from her forehead. Had it really only been a few hours earlier that she had invited him to stay the night with her? What had caused such a sudden emotional turnabout?

Joe's fingers danced along her cheek and down to her chin, gently lifting her face so that she would meet his eyes. "'Ness, I love you. You know that." She nodded softly against his hand. "You can tell me anything, you know that too."

"I know that, Joe." Vanessa's voice was withering and nearly nonexistent, her eyes dropping to his chest.

Joe leaned closer to her, placing his hand on her thigh comfortingly, a hint of a smile on his features. He lifted her face again and gravitated his weight towards her, lowering his eyelids seductively. His lips only centimeters from her own, parted slightly to nip at her lower lip tenderly, but Vanessa pulled away sadly.

Her willowy hand found its way to Joe's shoulder, pushing him down and away from her. Vanessa's look was chastising and cut clean through him, sending a nervous chill down his bare back.

"Vanessa, what's wrong?" Joe's voice was firm, but there was a noticeable hint of wavering pain caused by her rejection.

She sighed, her eyes shining with regret. "Joe- I'm just not in the mood."

Joe felt the words bubbling on his tongue before he could even think about what he was saying. "You were in the mood earlier."

A thick crimson blush flushed on Vanessa's cheeks and her eyes narrowed. "Joseph Hardy, I would like you to leave. _Now_."

"'Ness, I'm sorry!" His eyes widened in embarrassment and panic. "That was stupid- that was really stupid. I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean it like that."

Vanessa didn't look at him, but she also didn't further her request by forcing him out of her apartment. Joe sighed and tried again, this time more tactfully. "Vanessa, I just want to talk. Will you please talk to me?"

"I don't want to talk." Vanessa said with a firm upper lip.

Joe smirked. "You _always_ want to talk, 'Ness."

For a tense moment Joe thought he has crossed the line again and berated himself internally until Vanessa turned her eyes towards him, an amused grin playing at her peachy lips. For a second they shared a contented gaze, but then Vanessa's smile faded again.

"It's just," she began weakly, unsure of how to phrase carefully what had been ailing her all evening. "Well Joe ever since- ever since your father's friends have been in town- you've been acting _differently_." She looked up at him through what she hoped were innocent eyes.

"Differently?" Joe couldn't help feeling a bit offended. Why hadn't she told him this earlier? Was he really acting that _differently_? He certainly hadn't noticed.

"Frank told me about what happened between you and your father, Joe," Vanessa explained, trying hard to be calm and reasonable. "And, well, I've noticed that you've become sort of- _transfixed_ on these men lately. They're your father's friends, his colleagues, Joe, and for some reason you seem to have an unrealistic vendetta concerning them. You're so _tense_ about it. I feel like- you haven't been yourself lately, like I'm losing you. Half the time you're in your own world Joe, not with me where you should be." Her voice cracked at this, watching his unmoving, blank face. For once in his life Joe Hardy's emotions were unreadable.

"I just can't sit here and watch you tear yourself apart." She stared directly at him, wanting to know what he was thinking, wanting him to say something, anything before she said the end all be all statement.

But he didn't stop her, he didn't interrupt her, and so she said what she hoped she would never have to. "I just think we need some time away from each other."

Joe stared at her in shock, his emotions finally surfacing.

It was as though a thousand glass shards were being pelted against his chest. His entire upper body was suddenly frozen in the moonlight, his bare skin feeling like ice. A tingling sensation ran down the back of his throat and his eyes burned with hot tears he refused to shed.

"You're breaking up with me." It was not a question.

"No." Vanessa's eyes swelled and she could feel moisture hitting her cheeks. What had she done? Why had she said that? "No, Joe. That's not- that's not what I meant." Her voice throbbed with the pain of regret and guilt.

"What _did_ you mean then, Vanessa?" His voice had gone from soft fear to scalding anger with one deep breath. His impulses took over and his mind fogged with emotion he, nor anyone else, could fight.

"I just need time..." She reached out to him with trembling fingers, touching his shoulder but he recoiled giving her the same chastising look she had given to him moments earlier.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa. You can have all the time in the world." Joe's voice was now neither angry nor depressed, just soft and numb. He stood in one swift motion, gliding back into the bedroom to retrieve his phone and wallet from the nightstand he formerly called 'his.'

"Joe?" Vanessa ran to the bedroom door. She watched his calculated moves as he found his Bayport U football shirt on the floor next to her bed and threw it on raggedly. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

He was thankful to already be wearing his track sweats as it was saving him time; he'd rather not stay under Vanessa's teary, wide eyed gaze longer than he had to. He flew past her into the living room, grabbing his Nike's and bike keys, and then to the front door. He grasped the door handle firmly, but stood still for a moment, attempting to cool down.

"Joe, please no- listen to me-" Vanessa had found her voice, moving towards him in the near darkness. Joe looked back at her, the last image of her before he left being that of a terrified, tear stricken face and her pleading, red rimmed eyes.

When he finally left, he slammed the door behind him and Vanessa took a few unsure steps forward placing her palms against the door. Her knees buckled and her legs collapsed beneath her, her whole body sliding to the floor. She leaned her head against the door, her remorseful fist coming into contact with the solid surface harshly, her sobs merciless and heard by only her.

* * *

At a red light Joe revved his engine, a mist forming in front of his eyes that he couldn't wipe away due to the helmet over his face.

His fists curled against the bike's handles as he replayed the last few moments of his life over in his head. Again and again his horrible, impulsive mistake ran through his memory, each time reaching the final, horrible conclusion.

" _Dammit_." His curse was harsh and bitter tasting under his breath. The light turned to green and he peeled away down the street, the speedometer racing nearly as fast as his conscience-stricken heart.

The dark, evening air felt cool against his bare arms, wearing only a short sleeve shirt, despite the cold front he could clearly feel streaming in. Joe pulled his motorcycle onto the gravel just outside the basement entrance of his brother's home, not caring how much noise it caused at the late hour.

Frank, who was surprisingly still awake due to some late night internet surfing for his father's latest case, heard the commotion from his office window. Peaking his head in the bedroom to assure himself that Callie was still sound asleep, he padded downstairs to see why Joe was suddenly home.

However, Frank was not prepared to deal with his brother's torrid emotions this late at night. As he made his way to the downstairs apartment he saw Joe haphazardly tearing several picture frames off the wall in his small, makeshift living room.

"Joe, what are you doing? I thought you were with Vanessa?" he wondered, staring at his brother quizzically. Joe had been a little off lately, but he was acting insanely bizarre for twelve-thirty in the morning.

Joe turned to his brother, severely not in the mood to have a sibling chit-chat right now. He opened his mouth to say something rude or sarcastic, but upon not finding the kindest of words, he decided not to bother with it. He was too tired to argue now.

"Joe, what's wrong, what happened?" Frank asked again, walking towards him and grabbing a picture frame, a Christmas gift from their mother, out of the man's trembling hands.

Frank observed his younger brother in shock. Joe's eyes were red, his lashes clearly wet with what Frank tried not to assume were tears. The blond's features were sallow and shadowy, his normally tan skin much paler than usual.

Realizing that he had to say something Joe bit out, "I don't want to talk about it."

He skirted around Frank and grabbed the knob to his bedroom door, but his brother's hand got their first, holding the door firmly closed. "Joe. What happened at Vanessa's?"

Joe surprised even himself when he managed to hold back his anger and let loose an even whisper. "Nothing." But he knew that if Frank kept pressing him, the anger would become untamable.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Frank countered cooly, placing his other hand on his brother's shoulder comfortingly, not realizing just how furious Joe truly was.

Shrugging off the hand, Joe attempted to open the door again, but to no avail. He bit his tongue and closed his eyes, trying harder than anything not to lay into his brother.

Frank stared at his younger counterpart with narrowing eyes. He thought that maybe in the morning he would suggest that Joe go talk to somebody, because he was starting to think that his mind was not all there anymore. "Joe..."

The rational voice in Joe's head told him to say something like 'I really don't feel like talking right now' or 'Sorry, I'm just not myself lately,' but his temper finally got the best of him.

"You've been having some nice, personal conversations with Vanessa lately, haven't you Frank?" Joe spat out through clenched teeth. He turned to face his brother with accusing blue eyes, his muscles flexing due to the rage fueled adrenaline rushing through his system.

Frank furrowed his brows, backpedaling in his mind, caught off guard. "I- Joe it's just- she's-she's worried about you."

Joe shook his head and laughed. "I know that Frank. She just told me so herself. She said she needed time- time away from _me_ apparently." Joe's voice grew more bitter with each word. "If you knew she was going to break up with me Frank, why didn't you just tell me and save her the trouble?"

Frank took a step back, growing extremely concerned by Joe's reddening face and menacing tone. "Joe, I didn't know-"

Joe held up a quivering hand, his demeanor suddenly eerily calm. "It's too late Frank. What's done is done."

Frank tried to reply, but Joe was quick to wrench open the door now, slamming it in his brother's guilt stricken face without another thought.

* * *

The nightmares came without remorse that night. The thoughts of regret were an incubus in his mind. Joe couldn't believe he shut her out like that.

Tossing and turning until sleep was no longer a release but a demon. Images of dark hair and broad shoulders blurred against the picture of Vanessa's stricken features, fading in and out like bad reception on an old television. The scent of rotting wood and dust assaulted his nose, the sound of a shutter clicking rapidly fighting against the beat of his racing heart in his ears.

Joe awoke in a cold sweat. Guilt and terror and confusion combining in his gut to create a horrible nausea.

Rubbing his eyes, his thoughts were already racing. How could he do this to Vanessa? His impulses had suddenly and drastically changed his life forever. He knew that she wasn't trying to break up with him, but in turn he broke up with her. How could he have been so stupid?

But also those images he'd seen- so familiar and yet a swirling mass of distress and uncertainty sitting heavily in his chest. What had that been about?

Joe groggily walked to his small bathroom and turned on the light, the florescent glow blurring his vision. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him in depression causing a sigh to leave his chapped lips. _This isn't me, what am I doing to myself?_ He was way too stressed, especially when he shouldn't be stressed out about anything. His life had been so perfect and then he had to go and ruin everything. Maybe Frank was right, maybe he did need to grow up.

Joe's eyes were bloodshot, his face paler than usual. He resembled a plague victim that should have been quarantined long ago. But he knew he wasn't sick, at least not physically.

He walked back to his bedroom and locked the door behind him. The darkness was overwhelming, but the moon sent stripes of light throughout the room. As his eyes adjusted he looked to the digital clock next to his bed. The green numbers read four o'clock. Another sigh emanated from his lips.

He knew he wouldn't be able to fall back into a nightmare filled sleep, so he sat down on the edge of his uninviting bed and stared out the window to the back patio, hoping that dawn would come quickly.


End file.
